


One Foot Out of Place

by The_Call_Of_The_Void_08



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Abuse, Avenger Reader (Marvel), Domestic Avengers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, I'm Bad At Tagging, Kidnapping, Mental Abuse, Mental Breakdown, One-Sided Relationship, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Physical Abuse, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, Tags Are Hard, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:02:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23675071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Call_Of_The_Void_08/pseuds/The_Call_Of_The_Void_08
Summary: To wake one day and find yourself thrown into a whole new world entirely is, to say the least, a little bit distressing. Armed only with the clothes on her back, a dead mobile phone and knowledge of the upcoming events of this new world, (y/n) must find a way to survive.[Slight various x reader]
Relationships: Bruce Banner & Reader, Loki (Marvel) & Reader, Loki (Marvel)/Reader, Steve Rogers & Reader, Steve Rogers/Reader, Thor (Marvel) & Reader, Tom Hiddleston/Loki/Reader, Tony Stark & Reader, Various MCU Characters/Reader
Comments: 19
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

The sun is ungodly bright and the air is syrupy thick. Like a deep fog slowly lifting, so to does a figure begin to stir. With a gasp of air, like a creature clawing for breath, they choke and cough on invisable bile within their throat. Their eyes snap open, strained and pained. Rolling onto their stomach, their nails rake the soil as they steady their breathing.

The figures brow furrows as they lift their head from the ground. "What the...?" Their throat dry and voice scratchy.

Below their fingertips is soil, above their head, sky. Surrounding them, tall trees with bright sun poking through it's branches.

The figure slowly moves, their limbs stretch, beginning to look more human as they get into a sitting position on the ground. Now the figure is not only that, it's a person, a woman with (h/l) (h/c) tresses.

Her eyes glaze over the forest floor as she tries to make sense of the situation before her. (Y/n) has naught but the clothes on her back and a dead mobile phone. Typical. Steadily she begins to rise to her feet and a soft dizziness creeps into her vision. With a hand pressed lightly to her temple, she presses on into the brush.

The forest, too light to be considered dense and too thick to be called open, is for the most part quiet and still. Soft song of the birds high above the woman's head becomes a sweet background sound as she pushes through branches of the shrubbery.

The minutes turn into hours as she trudges through the woodland. Tired, hungry and extremely confused don't come close to the emotions (y/n) is feeling, still she presses on.

Further and further she delves, soon the trees become further spaced and more sunlight comes through the branches. Ahead she spots a small clearing - her eyes widen. A man. No, two men. Her lips curve at the corners and she begins to jog lightly.

"Hey!" She calls out, raising a hand in the air and waving it to gain their attention. She presses her hand to a jagged branch and swiftly moves it aside, giving her access to the field. "Hey!" She calls once more.

One of the men, podgy and round, turns with furrowed brows. He spots (y/n) approaching, perplexed at the sight. He nudges his friend, a stocky fellow, and he turns wearing the same confused expression.

The podgy man raises his palm to his head and scratches. "What are you doing all the way out here, miss?" His voice, like a farmer's is soft yet gruff. 

(Y/n) skid to a halt a mere few feet away from where the two men stood. Her lips curve at the corners and glances over her shoulder. "I was beginning to get worried there," her smile drops as she places a hand on her hip, tired eyes glance back at the two. "I just woke up in the forest and I don't know how I got there. I don't- I don't know where I am, can you please help me?" 

The two men glance between one another. The podgy one mumbling incoherent and the lanky man staring gobsmacked at the girl. The two dress similarly, with blue overalls, boots, and a plaid shirt. Over their shoulders hangs a rifle - hunters. 

"Uh, well," this time the lanky fellow began, unsure what to make of the situation. "That's an odd one miss, I'll give you that." His voice wavers as he speaks.

(Y/n) knitted her brows lightly. "Miss are you alright?" Eyes of (e/c) flicker to the podgy man, "Do you need to go to the hospital?" 

She considered the option for a moment then nodded her head to confirm that the hospital wouldn't be a bad idea.

The two men packed their bits and pieces from their spot and lead (y/n) down the field to a path that will eventually lead them out of the forest and to a car park.

"Do you remember anything before you woke up in the forest, miss?" The lanky fellow questioned cautiously. Currently he stood to her left and the other fellow stood to her right.

The woman scrunches her features lightly as she began to recall the last thing she remembers before waking up. "Well, I was at home."

Both men glanced between each other, "You must not live too far then eh?" Probed the little fellow, to his dismay she shook her head.

"I don't live near a forest."

Her response raised alarm bells within the two men. "Where do you come from then, miss?" (Y/n) turned to gaze at the lanky man only to see him shoot her a concerned look back.

Ever so subtly her eyes widened in realisation, "Definitely not around here." She began upon recognising their accents. "You both are American?" 

"Well, yes miss? I assumed you moved here, considering your accent." The response shocked (y/n), now ever more perplexed and worried.

"No, I'm not from here. I live in (Country Name)."

The lanky man stops in his tracks, mouth agape. As for the pudgy one, his features scrunch up.

"You're not serious are you?-"

"There's no way, miss!" The two men shriek out of shock and surprise.

Well, she is serious, scared and serious. She nods her head to confirm but it does little to soothe the two men. 

"What is your name, miss?" The plump man adjusts his straps on his back, "Maybe there's been a missing persons case for you - since you just turned up so far away from home - it's not impossible?" His mind and words all jumbled. The other fella agreed with his friend with quick nods of his head.

Ahead of the few the trees became ever more scarce and a car popped into view.

"I'm (y/n) (l/n), from (Country's Name) and I am (age) years old." Her voice became quiet by the end, soft enough to still be heard. Unfortunately the two shake their heads, a firm no to they have heard nothing of this found lost girl. 

With the car within throwing distance, the two men begin to make lighter conversation. One that (y/n) blocks out - not intentionally but due to the circumstances it's not really much of a choice.

A gentle tremor of thuds invade the girls senses. It sounds from her head and it hums, growing and getting louder. (Y/n) raises her hands to her temples - her vision begins to blur and a deep pounding sounds against her ears. The two men's voices become muffled, drowned out as if she is sinking into the ocean. As if the ocean had swallowed her whole, she sinks into unconsciousness. Her body becoming limp as it crumples to the dirt trail below her feet.

The two barely manage to grab her arms as she rockets towards the muck. Hoisting her up, the plump fellow carries her legs and the tall one her arms. They share a glance between themselves, unsure and confused. A sick joke or a serious crime? They don't know and that scares them, the only thing they do know is that they need to get this strange woman to the hospital and pray for answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to apologise for the long wait for this chapter.  
> Like everyone else, covid took a wrecking ball to normality.  
> I began writing this in lockdown of March 2020 and I was back to work by July 2020 with full time hours so I never had any time to stop to count my fingers let alone write.  
> I'm still working on this story but it will be a bit of a delay between chapters - although maybe not quite several months next time...!  
> My bad! I hope you enjoy this chapter


	2. Chapter 2

Darkness, that's all she can see. Ebony shadows engulf her and swirl in a vortex of a big fat nothing. Cold, that's all she can feel. Ice burning her limbs but unable to move.

Distant beeping ricochets from every angle, a gentle brightness begins to form. It's origin, unknown, the soft rays slowly chase the cold and the dark from her. 

Steadily (y/n)'s eyes begin to open. Hungrily she swallows the air into her lungs only to cough and splatter in a horrid sense of deja vu. The sound, beeping, lightly taps at her eardrums. A heart rate monitor. To her right she finds the source, a wire connecting her index finger to the monitor where jagged lines skyrocket.

The room in which she resides is a muted blue and off white. Curtains that have begun to yellow hang loosely from the ceiling and very limited sunlight pokes through the blinds by the window. There is a television, a thick ungraceful thing, hanging from the wall across from the bed. It's volume is at an all time low, presumably to not disturb the patient, and on the screen it displays recent news.

(Y/n) pushes herself upwards and into a sitting position, another sense of deja vu. A sharp pain ebbs into her head - her eyes crinkle at the corners and her lips stretch into a thin line. Out of habit she lifts her arm to her head only to feel a gentle tug. A drip.

The soft sounds of a gentle knock sound from the door as it's pressed open enough to allow the artificial light into the depressing room.

"Oh good," sounded through the ever opening doorway. "You're awake. How are you feeling?" Spoke a woman dressed in blue with sun kissed skin and kind features. She glides into the room steadily and stops beside the monitor.

"A little sore."

She hums as she begins to change the drip. "That's understandable, dearie." Offering (y/n) a side glance, her lips stretch into a meek smile, one that the woman can barely reciprocate. Handing over a few painkillers and water, the nurse begins to perform a physical examination on (y/n) - all in all to make sure all her bits and bobs are working to the best of their ability... or not.

"Well, aside from the dehydration, you're as fit as a fiddle." The nurse says as she stands straight, "The two gentlemen that brought you in had been in quite a state. They mentioned that you're not from around here?"

Scratching lightly at her cheek, (y/n) thought over the situation briefly. " No." She states simply, "If I'm honest I don't know how I ended up so far from home."

"In this day and age, dearie, anything is possible." Maybe anything is possible or maybe everything is damn weird. "Who's your emergency contact? We can get in touch so your family knows you're safe."

Handing over her details; name, address, next of kin. She sat back on her bed, allowing the plush pillows to absorb her into their feathers.

The TV ever rolling, she reaches for the remote to turn the volume up. Not much is happening by the sounds of the news. A few celebrities, ones (Y/n) never heard of, a burglary and a charity event. Just standard news, really, until-

"STARK TOWERS WEEKS AWAY FROM COMPLETION."

(y/n) blinked once, twice, a fifth and seventh time. What. Surely it wasn't a serious broadcast... but sure enough - 

On the screen it shows off the near finished building, with a few outside panels being pushed into place by a man in a metal suit. A man in a metal suit. (y/n)'s grip on the sheets tightened as her stare pierces the screen. A man in a metal suit.

"There's been a problem with the information you've given me, dear." The nurse showing face again, this time with a raised brow. "I have contacted the number and I'm afraid there is no (Emergency contact name) there. I've actually had a brief look for a (Parents name) and I can't find them." What. 

(y/n)'s eyes tore away from the screen to the woman in the doorway. "Do you have a mobile phone?" The nurse arches her brow as she nods in confirmation. "Can you search on social media-"

"Social media?"

"Yes, search on social media for my name. It's a distinct name so it's sure to come up." Perplexed by the request, the nurse pulls her phone out of her pocket, ever weary.

The seconds feel like hours as the nurse searches for (y/n)'s online presence. Her fingers glide upon the device, she pauses, squints, and then continues her search.

(Y/n) sits tense on the bed, her nails digging into the sheets. Her body stiff as a brush.

The television continues its broadcast, now back at the news station. Their words, forecast and small details, don't reach (y/n)'s ears.

"That's odd." The nurse features crinkle. "I can't seem to find you on here, dear."

That is the nail in the coffin.

With those words, the colour drained from (y/n)'s face. Fuck. FUCK. F. U. C. K. She grimaced, her lips pulled back in a snarl and her eyes shot open. Her breath comes in shallow short breathes, wheezing almost as if the life is being choked from her. The heart rate monitor spikes sending a panicked rush of beeps.

The nurse tosses her phone aside, rushing to the patients bedside. "You're going to need to calm down, dear. Breathe, take a nice deep breath, in, one, two, three, and out. Again, in for three and then out." Her hand lays atop (y/n)'s gently reassuring her.

Eventually her breathing and heart rate returns to normal. Well, almost normal.

"I'm going to leave you to get some rest okay, dear?" However, (y/n) did not answer. Instead her response came in the form of her rolling onto her side, and facing away from the door. The nurse sends her a pitying glance before she shuts the door and returns to her duties.

(Y/n)'s mind swirls with questions without answers - they twirl so fast she could easily become dizzy. In her own personal bubble of confusion and fear, she internally questions the situation at hand. Each conclusion as to how she got there, why she's there and where she is, is a jumbled mess of even more questions without answers. It leaves her hollow and helpless. It begs the question as to how she will return home - will she return home? If so, then when? 

A quietness washes over the room like a soft blanket, the only sounds to be heard are the stable beeps of the monitor and a few distant voices. It's almost serene, almost peaceful. But almost isn't good enough. The window let's in a gentle breeze and yellow sunbeams that grace (y/n)'s skin with butterfly kisses - but she does not feel them. It's warmth does not grace her skin. 

The seconds turn into hours before the room sees any life from the animated husk that is now (y/n).

A lite knock comes from the door, but she does not turn. The nurse, not waiting for a response, presses her palm to the wood to grant her entry to the patients room.

In comes a different nurse with short blonde hair and a pale complexion. She wears the same uniform of blue and a kind smile upon her face. She carries a tray filled with goods; a cheese and ham sandwich, an apple, a bag of plain crisps and a bottle of water. Nothing extraordinary. "I'm sorry to disturb you, miss." She began with soft vocals, "It's lunch so I have brought some food for you." She rounds the bed to where (y/n) faces only to be met with her cold gaze.

Wordless, she rises from where she lay and allows the nurse to pop her food next to her. Before she can leave (y/n) speaks, "Can I ask you something?" Her voice lacking any emotion.

The nurse turns, her smile reaches her eyes as she nods her head. "Of course you can."

With a deep inhale, a sigh and closed eyes, she spoke. "What was that report on the TV today?"

"The report?"

"Yes."

The nurse pauses for a second to think about the question. With a hand pressed to her chin she speaks, "You mean the one about the Stark tower?"

"Yes." Her eyes seemingly looking through the nurse.

"It was only an update to say it's got a few more weeks until it's finished. I heard it's going to be able to self sustain on electricity. Isn't that something? If that kind of technology could be used in hospitals imagine the good it would do...!" So that is it. The Stark tower is real. The nurse begins a tangent and spirals down into a full blown rant on the topic, which (y/n) doesn't care for.

"Who is building it?" (Y/n) intersects, should the woman's jaw come loose.

The nurse raises a brow as if the answer is straight forward. "Tony Stark, of course."

"Iron man?"

"The very same?" 

Conversation ceases and the atmosphere becomes stagnant like a pond without water flow the fish make their exit so to does the nurse without further ado.

(Y/n) spares a glance at the food brought to her but can't find it in herself to eat. Instead she has her eyes set on the outside world, wondering how she has tumbled down the rabbit hole.

Things are becoming even more complex.


	3. Chapter 3

Day turns to night. The charcoal sky chases away the blue and the stars come out to play.

(Y/n) sits fixated in her bed, her phone now charging beside her and her gaze glued to the television. Over and over she plays the recent events of heroes- or rather their uprising and the threat of evil. Things that should remain a thing of fiction but here it is, reported on news stations with real news reporters.

From these clips (y/n) knows where she is in this hero story, and frankly it does little to comfort her. The upcoming events are sure to be a dousy if they truly play out as they did in the movies.

The next issue plaguing (y/n) is what does she do about it. To live out the rest of her life here and go along with the plot or does she fight against it and try to get home? Her brow furrows at the thought.

The clock strikes midnight but the woman does not react. She remains within her impenetrable bubble, eyes piercing the television in a thousand yard stare. She's to be released come morning and the thought scares her. What is to come of the woman with a foot out of place and out of time? She knows not and that is what scares her most. The thought of aliens, gods, super humans and assassins is, to say the least, a little daunting but no more than being thrusted into a world in which you don't reside.

A decision must be made. A choice to fade into the background of this world and let the events take place or to take a stand and make a difference. The latter sounds less desirable and the former sounds so easy and somewhat comfortable. Almost like it could shroud (y/n) in a blanket and shield her from the truth - the truth that she is well and truly alone.

The screen fades to black and silence erupts in the static hospital room.

A decision has been made and she hopes she won't regret it.

Come morning (y/n) lays awake. The golden sunbeams breach the curtains and grace her skin with its warmth. It's heat almost mimics the feeling of a comforting hand on her cheek, one that she knows, but almost isn't good enough. 

She sighs a deep sorrowful sigh before pushing herself up from the mattress below her. Her hair of (h/c) strewn in every which way, dirty and in dire need of a good combing. The little sleep she got is evident on her features from the crinkle at the corners of her eyes to her tautly pulled lips.

The nurse pops by briefly, handing over some bits and bobs to allow the woman to get herself cleaned up and ready for freedom.

Stripping down from her dirty old clothes and stepping into the water from the shower has her briefly entertaining the thought this whole situation is a cruel joke. One to make her believe she's gone mad only to then yell surprise in her face and watch as she flails her arms. The thought remains for but a moment and then its tossed aside as she feels the heat of the water.

The water is soothing to her skin, it's warmth goes beyond her cold exterior and allows her, to for a moment, feel at home. Home. Her home, her family, friends and so the thought crashes down like a led balloon. Her comfort turns to tears.

Towel drying her hair as best she can before stepping into the fresh clothes from the nurse. The morning is passing by as fast as paint drying but (y/n) almost doesn't want it to end. Once she steps into those clothes she will be pushed out into the big bad world to fend for herself.

(Y/n) combs her fingers through her hair, finding plenty of knots and tangles. Her eyes stare out the window at the world she's soon to join. A numbness settles into her heart, pushing the negative thoughts into shadows and keeping the present in the light.

The air gradually fills with more sound by the second. The peaceful distant corner of her hospital room now far behind her and the world before her, and by god is it loud. The chatter of a thousand voices merge into one, sounds of machines beeping and wheels against the laminate flooring all come together, threatening (y/n) with a headache, and she hasn't even set a foot out of the hospital yet.

People whirl around (y/n), her face nothing more than another in the crowd never to be remembered, never to be thought of again. (Y/n) drags her feet across the floor, her shoulders slumped and her hands deep within the confines of her pockets.

Before her, the large glass doorway let's in the sunlight, and with her presence it slides open. The fresh air on her skin, cool and crisp. The smell of cut grass and fuel invades her senses. This is it, She thinks bitterly with a deep inhale, and so she steps out and into the open without a destination in mind.

The streets are abuzz with life. Almost every inch of the pavement sees movement from the soles of ones shoes and the road has more action than a rabbit in heat. Cars come and go in the blink of an eye, but it's to be expected in such a populated area. 

The vastness of the city isn't stressed enough. The (h/c)ette finds the minutes spent wandering quickly turn to hours. Sluggishly (y/n) trudges the busy streets in search of a place to spend the night but soon finds her stomach in need of sustenance. She pauses all movement, causing a few strangers to almost collide with her and earning a few choice words, her hands clench within her pockets and she squints her eyes in search of a cafe, restaurant, bar - anything. Anything that serves hot meals.

"That'll do." She speaks ever so softly it barely even registers with her own ears. Ahead, on the street corner is a small fast food restaurant. Perfect. Her lips curve into a light smile as she makes haste to the entrance.

The door slides open with ease granting (y/n) access. Above her head is hanging basket lights, under her feet are charcoal tiles. To be expected of a fast food joint, most tables are filled and there is a queue at the front. The air is filled with chatter and most importantly the aroma of fried goods. (Y/n)s jaw loosens, threatening to drool at the idea alone of food.

(Y/n) squints her eyes as to read the menu hanging behind the counter. Despite this restaurant having a new name and slightly different decorum, the menu is oddly recognizable as a popular fast food place back home. 

Swiftly her order is taken and she plops herself in a window seat. Outside the world is acting as if she never were, perhaps because in this world, she truly is nothing. The thought alone is depressing, let alone this being reality.

Peering through the looking glass at the world before her, (y/n) let's her eyes settle upon unsuspecting passerby's, each one wrapped up in their own lives, blind to the carnage that awaits them within the next few measly weeks. 

She sighs a deep sorrowful sigh. Plenty on her plate to think about and yet her home plagues her mind. A flash of colour within the crowd, it fades as fast as it comes. (Y/n) snaps her head up, her eyes drawn to the light, like a moth to the flame. She sits upright to see past the passing people, hoping to get a glimpse of the source of the strange occurrence.

The people flock and flurry like a group of flies. With them too trying to find the source. When she thinks she can peer past them another person comes into view - And funnily enough people make a better door than a window. 

Finally a breach in the wall, she meets with a dark silhouette in amongst a luminous green hue.

Her eyes widen, her brow arches, and her lips pull into a grimace. "Oh fuck." Her voice comes meekly as she stares at the source of the light.

He turns, peering through the crowd of frightful faces. His eyes meet with (y/n)'s as he drinks in her expression. His lips curve at the corners, sending her a knowing glance. Then he turns on his heel and skulks into an alleyway, with his smirk never leaving his face. 

"Here's your-" 

Before the worker can even finish her sentence, (y/n) throws herself from her seat and dashes out the door. Leaving behind the worker, stunned and with a tray of food with no recipient.

This can't be happening yet, (Y/n) grimaces as she dodges oncoming people. I thought I had time. The alleyway just a stone's throw away, she grinds to a halt. She takes a second to catch her breath, a moment to steady her heart. She can hear her pulse like a drum within her ears as fear engulfs her.

Cautiously (y/n) creeps to the corner, slowly she pokes her head around. Only enough so that she can see into the shadows and no more, no less.

The alleyway is barren and empty - Well as barren and empty as one can be. No life to be had, no souls to be found. Only bins full of rubbish, the walls lined with clutter, and of course the lot is engulfed in the shadows of the city.

(Y/n) pulls back from the corner, letting out a breath she didn't know she was holding, she feels her pocket for her mobile device. With it in her hand she fumbles with her trembling hands, almost dropping the device, and turns on the recording.

Again she heads to the edge of the alleyway, this time with the intention of breaching it's boarder. She draws a deep breath, closes her eyes and takes a shaky step from her safe spot behind the wall. Before her is the same mess that she saw before. Meekly she steps into the shadows with a watchful eye. Quietly she steps over the filth and further into the dark. A can falling over makes her jump, a rustle causes her to flinch and then silence ensues.

At the end of the alleyway there's a bend, a sharp 90 degree turn to the right. She pauses in her tracks, picking up hushed voices coming from behind the bend. Two to be precise. One strained and gruff while the other smooth and silky. Their words are lost within the quietness, their voices are only sound. (Y/n) pokes her head out to see the pair, with her phone also facing the two behind the bend. 

In amongst the trash sits a man, homeless by the looks of things, with a shaggy appearance and unkempt clothes, while the other is prim and proper.

The two seems to be in a heated discussion. With the prim and proper man looking ever more irritable. He marches around the homeless man with his hands behind his back, sneering at him as he speaks in a low tone. (Y/n) strains her ears, trying desperately to hear the conversation. 

Complete and utter confusion radiates off of the woman as she tries and fails to piece together what is happening and how this contributes to the plot. She doesn't have the answers but she prays things work as they do in the movie. Not often someone would wish for that tragedy, and likely never again, but this is her only safety knowing the plot - but that seems to be going up in flames. 

"What do we have here?"

Definitely going up in flames.

A concoction of emotions sweep over (y/n)'s face but most recognisable is fear. Fear comes in many forms; fear of the unknown, of knowledge, threat, loss, pain. Her fear of knowing and yet unknowing shines through her panicking eyes. 

She snaps around to face the new possible threat only to be met with the very same prim and proper man from around the bend. Loki, brother of Thor.

His face still adorns the wicked smirk and his hands still behind his back. He gives off a knowing and smug aura as he stares at the shocked figure before him.

Loki takes a slow stride forward, "The Oracle, I presume?" (Y/n)'s brow furrows as she takes a step backwards towards the wall. She glances around the bend to be met with the sight of rubbish, bins and filth. No sign of the homeless man. "I will give you a choice. You can come willingly and be an advisor, well of a sort." He almost chuckled at the idea.

(Y/n) slips off to the side and into the empty alleyway, with her back facing the darkness she tries to jumble together a coherent sentence.

It's too soon. She grimaces as he continues in pursuit, his smirk slowly becoming a frown.

"Look, uh," she stutters, Well done, "I- I'm just passing through. I don't know- the situation here, so, uh, I guess I'll go now." Nailed it. Very convincing.

Swiftly she turns on her heel and takes off as fast as she can down the alleyway. Unfortunately she doesn't get very far, merely a few steps, before she's roughly grabbed by the arm and swung into the brick wall.

"You are as good a liar as you are at running." A simple response, (y/n) can appreciate that.

She grimaces as her head rattles from shock. The movement was swift and ever so smooth - it's a shame the landing wasn't so. Her body bashed against the bricks with a horrid clatter, leaving her winded.

No point in holding back now. "In my defense, it's partly true." She wheezes out with scrunched features. "Whatever Oracle thing you're looking for you've got the wrong person." The clatter of her body against the bricks brought out some courage within her. Or so it seems.

Loki straightens his posture, peering down his nose at (y/n) with a disgusted expression. "Oh I think not." His hands return to their spot behind his back. "I knew about your arrival before you even began your journey- I knew roughly where you should surface on this planet."

The new found information on her destined arrival comes as a shock to say the least. The plot thickens 

"If that's true," she begins with a wheeze, "then why didn't you do this whole thing when I first woke up?" She peers at the man with a raised brow and a hand pressed against her abdomen.

Loki almost chuckles, "I don't know if you've noticed this, but there is only one of me." He gestures to himself, sending her a light glare. "To find you I would have to wade through those woods for weeks if I had even the smallest hope to find you."

"Right. Fair enough. So what's happening then."

His smirk returns, eyes softening ever so subtly. "You are going to tell me everything you know."

(Y/n) expected so but how could she be sure this isn't a game? She can't. And that's part of the problem.

She straightens herself out, feeling a dull throb where her body met with the solid wall, she grimaces. "How about you tell me what you know and I'll tell you what I know." Bargaining was never one of those things that (y/n) would have had on her to do list, but then again, the situation at hand isn't one she thought she would be in either.

He chuckled, not a joyful sound but rather one that's used as a weapon to make it's recipient cower inward on themselves at the mere suggestion. It isn't laughable, it's pitiful. "You wish to bargain, mortal? Well I don't strike deals with your kind."

An unsettling silence fell between the two. The air stagnant as (y/n) thought up a good response to make him even consider her offer.

"What have you got to loose? You tell me what you know of me and I'll tell you what I know of you. It's a win-win situation."

The man took a second to consider her offer, a moment to think over what he would say and a minute to go over the pros and cons.

Her heart rate picked up it's pace as she awaited his response. Her palms begin to sweat as the seconds tick on.

"Very well." He states, face devoid of emotion. "Tell me what you know Oracle."

(Y/n)'s mind whirls with a thousand thoughts of things she could say, things she shouldn't and things that are completely unrelated to the topic at hand. Thankfully, her features go blank rather than display the madness that rages within her head.

Her lips curve subtly at the corners as she settles on a response. If she's going to play the game then she would play on her own terms. "I think you should go first. You could still have the wrong person so I think it's best you tell me what you know of me to clarify if is meant to be me." In retrospect she has a point, but that doesn't mean it doesn't anger the man before her.

Loki's brow twitches as he tries to conceal his irritation, however his efforts fall flat as he doesn't even register the snarl on his lips.

"Very well." His voice comes through grit teeth, making a sound akin to spitting poison. He sucks in a breath as a means to calm himself, his snarl contorts into a wicked smile. "You are (y/n) (s/n) and you are not of this world."

Though that is true, it doesn't tell the woman much about anything. It just highlights the two points she already knows.

She gestures with her hand for him to go on, he raises a brow. "Whats the problem? I told you what I know." She blinks. First once, then twice, then a fifth and sixth time. It would appear he's already a step ahead.

(Y/n)'s brow forms a frown, "I'm sorry but that's not enough to go off of." He rolls his eyes, pulling his hand from behind his back and pressing it to the bridge of his nose with eyes closed.

With a sigh, he continues. "Your kind were shifters, they could pass between this world and their own. They knew the future of this world, they were viewed as Oracle's here, therefore, you know the outcome of this world and it's parasites."

One things for sure, things are fucked up. How much of what he said can be taken seriously? Maybe it's true, and maybe she shifted into this universe or maybe she's gone absolutely mad.

"You're messing with me."

Her response shocked him, he blinked. "What?"

"You have to be messing with me. I mean, that would make sense. You are meant to be a trickster and all that." 

"If it were not true then how have you heard of me." It is spoken as a statement rather than a question and it leaves (y/n) speechless. 

A moment passes in silence with (Y/n) balls deep within her own head. Mayhaps it is true, then what? Would it mean there's a way to return home? Does it mean that since he knew where she would come from then maybe he knows how she can return? Only one way to find out.

"So if what you're saying is true then does that mean you know how I can get back?" A glimmer of hope sounds in her voice as she speaks. Her face becomes brighter with the idea of home despite the fact it isn't confirmed.

Little does she know she is falling right into his hands.

He offers her a smile, one that's meant to be genuine but has dark undertones. "I can help you get home," (y/n) perks up, "if you tell me what I need to know." And that sentence has her conscious crashing like a led balloon.

Should she help him win the war on earth just so that she may return home? Of course not. Morally it's wrong, and yet (y/n) is ever so tempted.

She cowers inwards on herself, dropping her eyes to the floor beneath her feet as she thinks. An object catches her eye, her mobile. And it's still recording.

The penny drops.

"Okay then. Tell me where I need to go."

Once more he chuckles. Her response nothing short of ridiculous. "Oh, no I do think it's your turn to speak."

Well, there goes the plan. A not very well thought through plan, but a plan nonetheless. 

"Well, for starters you're going to encounter some problems with your plans." Steadily she pushes from her spot and saunters towards her discarded mobile phone. "You're going to be captured, beaten and humiliated. Basically because you get on the nerves of the only people that will fight you and give you a good one at that."

This sparks an interest in him, "And who's nerves might that be?"

She glances over her shoulder, stuffing her phone back into her pocket. "The Avengers."

"The Avengers?" He repeats, perplexed. She just hums in agreement as she peers into the darkness.

(Y/n) saunters back to her spot, eyeing the corner to freedom. "The Avengers, yes. It's a group of people who each have their own special abilities. Actually, your brother is part of it as well."

His brow arches into a frown, and his fingers twitch. The last piece of information irking him far more than anything else.

"What abilities do the rest of these avengers have?"

(Y/n) brushes a hand through her hair, stepping closer to the edge. Slowly she unloads the details and skill sets of each of the team she had come to love as movie and comic book characters. Sparing the minor details... such as his small victories against them in the next coming weeks, but he doesn't need to know that.

"I see." Is all he says. Simple, right to the point.

"Will you tell me how I can get home now. It was a fair trade after all."

He shakes his head from left to right with a curve on his lips. He takes a step forward and his arm begining to extend. "Oh, yes. I'll tell you after I am victorious against these Avengers." 

(Y/n) laughs lightly, "Oh, and by the way, you won't win."

(Y/n) snaps away from him, pushing her body off the ground with such a force she almost stumbles. This time she's successful in avoiding his grasp, however, he is hot on her heels and seething with rage.

Oh fuck. Fuck! FUCK! Just get to the street. Just get to the street.

The adrenalin pumping through her body urges her desperately to get away from her very angry assailant. Now with her video proof that of this situation she can go find Tony Stark and they won't disregard her claims.

His foot steps are closing in but the busy street is closer. She grins to herself, That's one small victory for (y/n).

The woman doesn't stop as she breaches the shadows and enters the streets. Not even when she collides with strangers in her haste to be Scot free.

As she disappears into the crowds a giant weight is lifted off her shoulders, but little does she know this is only the begining.


	4. Chapter 4

(Y/n) leaps and bounds through the streets with her heart crashing wildly against her rib cage. Like an untamed beast clawing for freedom, her hair whips violently around her threatening to attack poor passerby's. Her legs beg for rest, her lungs pray for breath but their pleas fall upon deaf ears as (y/n) presses on wards. Her adrenaline carries her further and further into the city, where she hopes she won't be found amongst the dense crowds.

Eventually, (y/n)'s aching feet get the best of her and she grinds to a halt. On her brow a thin layer of sweat glistens in the sunlight and her cheeks are flush pink. She sucks in a deep breath, attempting to steady her ever racing pulse as she takes the back of her hand over her brow. (Y/n)'s eyes dart over the surrounding area - over the crowds and the shadows that lurk behind - trying desperately to know whether she's been followed or not. Every movement and odd sound is a suspect to her suspicion.

Frozen on the sidelines of the bustling streets, (y/n) is reminded of her lack of sustenance. Her stomach groans loud and free, not a care in the world for whoever may hear it. She mumbles a string of curses to herself for running out and leaving behind her meal. Fretting over it now won't do any good. And so, she goes in search of a quick bite to eat.

The aroma of fresh baked goods wafts in the breeze, enticing her to follow it's trail. Against her better judgement, she sets off in search of food. The smell carries down the street and around the bend, quickly finding the source, a bakery. No surprise there. In the window an array of pies, rolls, cakes and treats, (y/n) almost drools.

She steps into the shop and browses the cabinets. The display by the window has but a fraction of a fraction of the goods they sell, and (y/n) couldn't decide between the things there never mind the mountain that lays before her. 

The cashier, an old frail looking woman with a kind face gives her a smile as she hands over her chosen goods. "Excuse me," the woman's smile falters for a moment, "can you give me some directions? I'm not from around here."

The cashier's smile returns as she points (y/n) in the direction she needs, bids her farewell and good luck. 

She follows the cashier's directions, making minor errors along the way. Eventually she finds herself on the right road and her destination within her line of sight.

(Y/n) takes a step back as she gazes up at the enormous building before her. Something so grand against someone so small, a person so lost against a shining pillar of hope. She almost smiles, almost. 

Hurriedly she presses onwards to the barricade that separates the public from this private building. She slips between the cracks of two temporary posts, hoping she goes unnoticed. 

Her shoulders are raised, hands clenched, brow furrowed and lips taut. She tiptoes through the first floor, on high alert for any sounds of life. Tense can't come close to how (y/n) feels, the occasional groan of metal and a hum of electric make her jumpy.

Steadily she climbs the stairs. Up and up she goes, collecting sweat on her brow, she rests on the platform. Looking over the side of the railing, below are countless stairs she's already conquered, above endless more in her wake.

The higher she climbs the more tightly her nerves are wound, and that's not because of the height. 

She comes to a stop at the top of the stairwell. Behind the doorway, should be, who she seeks but the whole situation has her emotions askew. Her head is a melting pot of anxiety, relief, sadness and fear, her face showcases each emotion perfectly. 

(Y/n) knows she must push the door aside and seek the help that is so desperately needed but the fear she feels consumes her. Leaving her a trembling wreck, cowering before the doorway. She doubts herself - what she knows and what she can do to prevent it. Maybe it's better if I let it play out. The thought crosses her mind for a brief moment before it is tossed a side. 

In a brief moment of courage she presses her palm to it's surface and grants herself access. The doorway leads to a hallway illuminated by artificial lighting but by no means is it menacing. (Y/n) takes a second to breathe and a moment to listen. To her right a distant voice can be heard. A light, jovial sound, she recognises the voice though it isn't directly who she seeks but they will do.

All over again she gathers her courage as she steps down the hallway. Closer and closer she gets, through the small gaps of the door sunlight sneaks. It's presence a comfort. For now at least.

The voice is far louder now. She speaks freely into the open air, between her and the silence there's another voice. (Y/n) perks up at the sound. The other voice almost sounds distant, kind of strained but most importantly - male. 

Its now or never.

(y/n) sucks in a gulp of air, closes her eyes and presses her hand to the door. A white light engulfs her as she enters the room. Not a blinding, blistering light but a warm, comforting and inviting glow that envelopes her and the room before her.

The room (y/n) finds herself in is at least three times the size of her entire living space back home. Plastic covers the furniture and parts of the flooring, the wall - that is at least ninety percent window - is a bluish grey. 

(Y/n) shakes her head lightly from left to right as a means to shake herself free from awe. To her right the voices continue. She turns in the direction, feeling her heart hammering in her chest. Off to the side is a woman, medium height, with strawberry blonde shoulder length hair. Yup, this is it. 

"Excuse me?" The strawberry blonde woman froze in place as (y/n)'s voice reaches her ears.

She swivels around in place, a mix of surprise and annoyance on her face. "Oh no Tony we've got another one." Another one? Her words visibly confused (y/n) as she began to head in her direction. "Hi there, I'm sorry but the Stark Tower isn't complete yet so I'm going to have to ask you to leave." 

A hushed groan sounds from where she stood, followed by a voice. "Really? Another one? Well, just tell them to get out." The sound comes from a speaker, one that (y/n) can't see.

The strawberry blonde woman's smile becomes strained as (y/n) remains where she stands.

"Wait- wait, please I need to speak to you." (Y/n) spoke with shaky vocals, her hands raised as a gesture to show she has no ill intent.

The woman gives her a look as a response. Uncertainty is painted across her features as she takes in (y/n)'s appearance. Admittedly, (y/n) looks like she's been dragged through a bush. She may as well have been. With hair that's tangled and wild, crushed clothes and sweat that is still present on her brow. 

"Look you probably won't believe me but-" she pulls out her mobile phone, "I'm not from here. I woke up in a forest- where I'm from you guys don't exist. Well, you do but not like this. A lot is going to happen between now and the next ten or so years." Peppers face churns at her rambling. "It sounds crazy but please believe me- I've got some sort of proof- a video! But I know how things will play out and I was attacked so- so, please believe me?" She thrusts her phone forward, into her grasp and begins to play the video she recorded before arriving at the tower.

(Y/n) stares at her, cursing herself for stumbling over her words, praying for Pepper to believe her ridiculous claims.

After a moments silence, her features begin to soften and yet harden at the newfound information.

"Wait- hold on a second." She raises a brow and turns on her heel, beckoning for (y/n) to follow after her. "Tony you should come in here for a minute." She spoke out to the open air, a light furrow to her brow. From the speaker another groan sounds before silence washes over the room.

A moment passes and nothing. (Y/n)'s heart pumping out adrenalin while her anxiety over the situation remains ever growing.

"So what's the situation? I assume you're asking for help to kick out whoever-" A man enters from the balcony and takes no more than a step inside before he halts.

His appearance is well kept with well groomed hair and clean clothes. His features contort in confusion as he takes in the intruder before him.

"No offence but I thought you'd be a little more threatening." He jests with a ghost of a smile on his lips. He begins to take a slow stride forward, testing the waters on the situation. "Like a 6ft 2 crazy guy with metal coming out of his hands," he rolls his eyes and makes a gesture, "but that was last week's guy. So, what's the deal here? You heard her right, kid? The tower isn't complete yet so if you would be so kind-"

"Tony wait, hold on." His composure falters as he grows ever more confused. He gives Pepper a glance, silently screaming 'what the hell'. "Just listen to what she told me."

All attention turns to (y/n), with the stage set she finds her voice trapped within her throat - she freezes.

Tony raises a brow waiting for an explanation that doesn't seem to come. He sighs, pressing a hand to his head. "Okay kid, whatever you have to say just spit it out."

(Y/n) draws a deep breath, glancing between both people before her. "Avengers." Her voice comes so softly it's almost drowned in the silence.

Tony's attention diverts to Pepper beside him for but a moment, perplexed by the stranger and her knowledge.

"Right... Okay, who did you say you are?" Standing slightly taller now, suspicion lacing his vocals as he stares down the intruder who has at least a little knowledge on a subject that's not available to the common public.

(Y/n)'s heart begins to race once again feeling mild malice aimed at her being. With sheer anxiety, her voice becomes non-existent and her eyes become wide showcasing her fear to those before her.

"(Y/n)- I'm- I'm (y/n)." Her shaking vocals are pathetic against her own two ears. She'd curse mentally at her own short comings but she hasn't the energy for that level of self disappointment. 

Pepper rolls her eyes at the show down her partner is giving a deshevelled and panic stricken young woman.

"Enough of that, Tony." She begins, earning the two's full attention. "Look," she gestures towards the mobile still within her grasp.

His eyes flicker between the object and the woman holding it. His suspicious look ever present on his features as he reaches out for the device.

As it starts to play his eyes become more focused. A little tense, a bit cautious. Almost as if he himself were stalking the alleyway to find the answers himself.

When the recording comes to its conclusion, Tony stares on at the blank screen. Trying to pick answers from the ebony void.

His eyes snap to meet (y/n)'s, no longer harbouring the malice but a gentle softness that (y/n) has not seen since before her first awakening in this strange land.

"Okay, so," he holds the phone out, tittering it as he talks, "Loki, god of mischief, is about to- about to wreck havok on New York City? But his hope to succeed is you? An 'Oracle' who knows the inns and outs of his plans before they're even made, and not to mention knows the parts of his plans that will fail- hell you can technically stop the whole shit show before it begins if you know where to look, right?"

(Y/n) nods her head, lips slightly parted. "Yeah, I know where it starts."

Her response, although its a given, makes his lips curve slightly at the corners before falling flat almost immediately.

"We also have another issue then." Pepper frowns at his fallen tone. He glances at her then back to the (h/c) haired woman, "Think about it for a second. He knows what you look like, and you did mention the people who CAN help you and most importantly the people who will stop him. He's going to be looking for you and most likely he will be searching for you near by the other Avengers and that's if he hasn't already clocked you coming up here."

His statement, though very true, is enough to make her blood run cold. Why would he stop searching for her when she does know more than let on in their confrontation? Well, he wouldn't. Its just bad business if he did.

"So, what do I do?"

The question lingers in the air like a bad smell as Tony thinks over a temporary plan.

"Well laying low is probably a good way to start." He swivels on his heel to look out at the skyline. A hand pressed to his chin, contemplating their move. "We are about a week away from being ready here- so that means the fireworks will begin soon. If he is out there looking for you, here is probably one of the first places to look."

The strawberry blonde woman is taken aback, her features displaying fully her shock. "Wait, wait- wait a minute there. You're not implying what I think you're implying are you?"

He glances over his shoulder at a mildly irritated Pepper. "Well it's either hide out or he's going to come knocking before we are up and running. At least if I can contact Shield they can pass on the message and we can be ready before he finds her. It's a win-win situation-"

"Win-win? How is that a win-win?"

Tony rolls his eyes, not out of irritation but rather out of habit. "Well he won't get his hands on her for a start so he has to go in blind and we get a team ready to stop the whole thing before it blows out of proportion. Kind of like stopping a microwave before it nukes an egg." Good analogy, (y/n) can appreciate that.

So far, so good. It makes sense... to an extent. Tony begins drawing a mental map of his plan of action. Even going so far as to find somewhere for (y/n) to lay low and in turn she churns out the information on the subject at hand.

She leaves the device within their capable hands as she prepares - both mentally and physically - to set off for this safe haven on the outskirts of the city.

Little do they know that the flicker of a butterflies wings can cause a hurricane.


	5. Chapter 5

A few days pass by without so much as a gust of wind out of place.

(Y/n) remains on the outskirts of New York where she was advised, rather told, to go. Surrounded by woodlands, local homes and a single convenience shop. The air is crisp and fresh, filled with bird song and the distant hum of cars. Ignorance sure is bliss. 

Between the seventy-two hours that have passed, the stillness of the wind and the songs that continue to be sang by the wildlife, (y/n)'s anxiety has become non-existent. Almost as if it never were. Almost like she isn't in hiding. Almost.

Before now the (h/c) haired woman daren't leave the safety of the four walls provided for her, however, the stillness in the wind conveys a subtle sanctuary beyond the structures confines. Never has the sunlight felt so warm as it does now.

(Y/n), although feeling a new found confidence, she still moves cautiously as she ganders through the rural area. She passes by a few home's, quaint spaces with luscious gardens - home's far greater than the one she wishes to return to - and surprisingly very few people, even less traffic than usual. Still she presses on, marking those activities not under suspicious but slightly out of the ordinary.

With every step further from her safe space the world become's quieter. The birds song ceases, but (y/n) doesn't realise.

With her destination before her, the convenience shop door slides open with a clink. Hastily she steps inside to gather her goods.

Inside is no different from the shops back home. The only change is how quiet it is. Not even a clerk stood by the tills or one working the floor. Probably in the toilet. Can't be helped. So (y/n) presses onwards. Surveying the shelves, lined with goods, she grabs a few bits and bobs. Just enough to get her through today and little enough she can have another venture out tomorrow.

As she approaches the till, she calls out to whoever is working but is met with only silence. With a shrug, she places the items into a carrier bag and leaves some money on the counter before turning to leave.

A silhouette stands on the other side of the glass. (Y/n) raises a brow. Suddenly the air is tense and the urge to run is overwhelming.

The door slides open, the sunlight becomes blinding against the silhouette before her. The mass breaches the line between freedom and confinement, and (y/n) takes a cautious step back. Her eyes readjust to the lighting for a moment and a wave of shock washes over her features.

"What's going on-?" Her eyes widen in realisation as the figure rushes forward. Red hair whips around as she delivers a blow to (y/n)'s abdomen, sending her backwards on her arse.

Her body rattles upon impact, her head swimming after being cracked against the tile flooring. 

The assailant - her assailant - roughly grabs her by the ankle and drags her back. Instinct takes over the shock and before (y/n) even knows it she kicks her free leg with as much force as she can muster. Briefly her grasp falters and grants (y/n) some wiggle room to gain distance.

She stumbles as she throws her body in the opposite direction of her assailant. A hand holding onto her head as her still jumbled mind tries piecing together what's unfolding before her.

(Y/n) begins to question her luck. First being hunted by a literal God and now being attacked by an assassin. What are the odds.

"What's going on?" She spits the words out like poison, confused beyond comprehension. Natasha doesn't respond. Instead she offers a dissociated glance, one that sends a chill down (y/n)'s spine. Somethings off. 

She rushes her again, the (h/c) haired woman unable to escape the flurry of attacks. She groans when the first strike connects with her cheek, almost screams when the next comes but is silenced to a mere whimper as each blow comes faster and harder than the last. The attack continues for a handful of minutes but it feels like forever.

A sharp sting comes from her nose, another from her lip. Everything hurts. Her stomach begins to lurch with another sickening blow to it. Don't be sick- don't be sick- don't. Be. Sick. She internally chants, hoping she doesn't add that onto the list of issues.

The attacks cease for a moment, with (y/n)'s ragged breathing and dry heaving filling the air. She doesn't know when she ended up on the ground but the hard, cold tiles provide little comfort, but it's better than nothing. 

Warm and wet seems to be the only other thing she can feel on her face, other than seering pain Her nose is bleeding, along with her burst lip. The crimson dilutes in her tears as it trails down her face, leaving a pool under her.

She's never been a fighter but even she can see this is beyond pathetic. She lays crumpled in a heap on the floor, feeling the weight of every blow that connected with her body. The bruises already forming, and she's sure they're black.

She feels a rough tug on her arm, silently urging her to stand. Bleary eyed, she pushes to stand. Using the back of her free arm to push some of the tears and blood from her face. She grimaces at the ugly smear of red on her arm but she doesn't dwell on it. For now at least.

Natasha gestures for her to move. Leading her towards the exit by her wrist. Two things strike (y/n) as odd through this experience. One being how Natasha hasn't uttered a single word, not even a grunt in exertion while she was clubbing the baby seal that is (y/n). Two being that her facial expressions haven't changed, flinched or faltered throughout the whole ordeal. Something is seriously wrong. 

Out in the sunlight, the rays have lost their warmth. Parked in front of the shop is a black car, with tinted windows and no license plate. The tug on her arm directs (y/n) towards the vehicle, she begins to panic. She stops dead in her tracks, earning a violent pull on her arm, but she refuses to move another inch.

Natasha turns to regard her, still her expression remains just as stoic and unmoving as before. It's, by far, more unsettling than if she were furious. 

(Y/n) doesn't know what possessed her in that moment - maybe it's the sheer fear that forces her instincts to kick in. With her free hand she punches the opposing woman in the face - causing her grip to falter. She kicks her leg out as hard as she can, forcing the woman backwards, and she sprints off down the street faster than a cheetah on coke and probably looking like one too. Her brow furrows, regretting ever setting foot outside her safe haven.

The sound of her shoes slapping against the concrete echo in the silent streets, her heart beat sounding wildly in her ears. The blood still pouring from her lip and nose goes unnoticed but that's an issue for when she's safe.

The motel she has considered her sanctuary comes into view. Panic stricken, she doesn't question how the door lay slightly ajar, nor how the blinds are closed, instead she rushes for the entrance and slams the door behind her. Making quick work of the locks- desperately trying to feel a sense of safety once again.

That desperation will be her downfall.

The lights are off. The room is black, cast with unforgiving shadows. (Y/n) is trembling now. When did that start? Her eyes begin to tear up once again, hearing the sound of a car parking in the lot. She holds her hands to her mouth, muffling her ragged breaths and concealing her sobs.

Her anxiety rises as she begins to hear foot steps. Two sets. They're slow and calculated. Almost as if they're wanting to draw out her inevitable capture and make her feel all kinds of fear.

A moment passes in silence. (Y/n) daren't move a muscle, she dare not even blink away the tears in case they could somehow hear the trickle hit the floor. Her senses are heightened in the quiet and darkness, and she swears she can hear something come from the bathroom.

She begins to creep over to the source of the sound. It's light, just barely audible, but she can hear it. Its just the tap. It's just the tap- It's. Just. The. Tap.

She flicks the switch on, peering around the door to see that it is indeed the tap. With a small sigh of relief she pushes the door lightly and heads over to the sink to turn the water off.

The door slams behind her, she yelps from both fear and surprise. She spins on her heels, her back now to the sink and gripping it with both hands.

"You can either come with me by choice or by force. Which one is it." The man, of who (y/n) could identify as the other assassin, Clint, offers the (h/c) haired woman a strained smile. It doesn't look, by any means, convincing of a friendly gesture or anything of the sort. Rather mocking the woman's current predicament. That and disgusted by the blood that's smeared over her face.

(Y/n) grimaces, her aches and pains, cuts and grazes becoming more irritable with her climbing nerves. She shakes her head slowly from left to right, as if the motion would sweep away the current problems, but it would do little to sooth her. The gesture itself causes her head to swirl. The attack may have had a lasting impact, maybe even caused a minor concussion. Just her luck.

The man can see she's in no position to oppose. Wanting no more than to complete this task and be done with it. He drops the smile to a flat line and takes a steady stride forwards. One hand disappears into his pocket - pulling out a small rectangular object no larger than a mere few inches.

(Y/n) watches him carefully, feeling the aftermath of her injuries starting to drain her both physically and mentally. 

Clint follows her line of sight to the object within his grasp. "You won't know what this is. Don't look so sad about it. It's just a precaution." The statement cause alarm bells to ring in her head.

He chuckles to himself as he turns to the door and pulls it open. He saunters into the open space and flicks on the lights. "Come on. Come out." But (y/n) remains where she stands. A minute passes, with both parties locked in a silent stare off. Clint's patience can only go so far.

Meanwhile the cogs are turning within (y/n)'s mind. Not as smoothly as she would like to say they were, just enough to give her a half assed plan that may or may not even work. But at least it's something.

She draws a shaky breath to calm herself, closes her eyes and then finally let's go of the sink. She begins to slowly ebb closer to the threshold. Praying so desperately that any god may hear and answer her pleas.

In the meantime, the man saunters over to the door, an aura that could only be described as smugness surrounds him as he goes. The task takes but a mere moment and soon enough he's back where he stood before.

(Y/n) eyes him, trying desperately not to give away her plan to run to freedom. The fact he decided to unlock the door gives her hope that this half assed plan may prove successful.

In a mere moment everything changes.

He makes a move to grab her by the arm but the sudden movement startles (y/n). She flinches hard, deciding it's now or never, before making a mad dash around him for the door. Clint swivels around, instantly on her tail.

Grabbing the door handle and yanking it with all the hope of a startled deer and all the might of a field mouse, it doesn't budge. It's still locked.

Her heart sinks to her feet.

In those mere few seconds she's grabbed and violently thrown in the other direction. She falls to the ground with about as much grace as a fish out of water, her body makes a horrid clatter. (Y/n) groans in pain, the impact causes new bruises to begin to form and new cuts and grazes to be made. Her heart is hammering harder than it ever has, desperately urging herself to get up and run and hide, but between her physical condition and mental fatigue she finds that her reserves are coming up dry.

He kneels next to her form and pulls on her arm with the rectangular object in his other hand. He snaps the end off to reveal a thin needle inside. He presses the tip to the inside of her elbow and empties the contents into her bloodstream.

Whatever energy she had left is gone. Her vision became bleary and then her eyes became heavy. The last thing she can recount before the darkness swept over her is a very grumpy looking assassin peering down at her with no remorse in those striking blue eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to share the next chapter because I took so long to update before😅  
> Anyway, let me know if you're enjoying this so far!


	6. Chapter 6

The void welcomes (y/n) back into it's cruel grasp. It's touch is both cold and numbing. The sounds of life are empty. Their calls don't reach her ears.

She lays motionless, cold on the unforgiving floor, still as a statue. The only sign of life is the steady rise and fall of her chest. 

The room in which she spends her - forced - slumber is cast with shadows with a miniscule amount of artificial light creeping through the gap under the door. It's breezy and damp, but what can you do.

A voice can be heard, far beyond the confines of the dark and decrepit room. They're shouting - almost screaming. It echoes through the silence, it is demanding, but (y/n) cannot hear. Footsteps meld into the mix, fast paced but not rushed, the voice ceases as the footsteps come closer.

With a sharp turn of the key, the door opens with a groan, giving way to it's masters presence. In comes two people. One with ebony hair, and a smug curl on his lips. The other is stoic and unfeeling, with striking blue eyes.

Like a predator stalking his pray he circles her form. With his hands drawn behind his back, unaffected by the chaos he's created. With a glance he regards the other man, his lips still curled at the corners. "Send them in." With a nod Clint steps away, leaving the unconscious figure alone with a monster.

Loki can't help the satisfied grin that stretches over his face as he gazes down at the broken and deshevelled form below him, for this is another victory sure to birth the next. His chest swells with pride, at the fact that he has caught his prey.

In comes a group of six. Five men, including Clint, and one woman. The group are stoic, eyes focused in front of them, unwavering to the two forms before them.

He regards the group with the same expression, a little hope shines in his eyes. "Before you here is the key to our victory." His eyes cast down to the form, still unmoving and blind to the attention. "To gain her as an ally we must break her. Mentally, physically. In every way possible." His words don't faze those before him. They sound so reasonable to his own ears. "Under my disguises you should not fail. Any hesitation will be met with heavy consequences. Do I make myself clear." It comes as a statement rather than a question. Almost daring the five to make an error, one little slip up to show what happens then. Unfased by the underlying malice, the six before him respond in a monotone yes.

"You five play a vital role in this game. Go prepare yourselves." Without a word, the group of five exit the room leaving only Clint and Loki behind.

"I would wager that you're wondering how I plan to win over our little friend here." His voice is laced with self satisfaction and pride. Clint glances between (y/n) and Loki, his blank expression faltering as it showcases his mild confusion and curiosity. His silence urges him to continue. "The plan is very simple. You see, I'm going to convince her that her little heroes are quite the opposite. Make her fear them, have her loath them. Have her loose the sickening faith in those vile creatures and then," As he goes on his smile becomes a grimace, his voice becomes sharper. "I'll step in when she's at her weakest point and make her believe she was fighting for the wrong side. When that happens I'll save her from the hell they've put her through and she will help us willingly."

Clint hums for a moment, thinking over his words. "I see." Loki's brow archs in a combination of confusion and irritation. The simplicity of his response almost has him second guessing himself.

"What?"

"Nothing," Clint pauses for a second, allowing himself to better phrase his next words. "There's nothing wrong with your plan but I feel as though there's an easier option."

"Well, go on then. What would you suggest."

Clint's lips curve at the corners in an attempt at a reassuring smile as he scratches the back of his head, mildly avoiding Loki's gaze. "You could just use the staff and save yourself all this trouble. Not to mention this plan of yours could take days, weeks. Hell maybe even months." 

Loki blinks, a smile returning to his features. Though his logic is sound and it would be the far easier way about things, it cuts corners he doesn't want cut. In the grand scheme of things the slow and steady path will reign supreme. 

He chuckles lightly, amused by the assassins thought process. "Granted my staff allows me to control who I want," lips stretching into a wicked grin, "but it isn't just about control, it's about earning her trust. Once you gain ones trust you're more likely to tell the truth and try to help. As for time, well, we better not waste it." He emphasises his words with a gesture. His arms move from his back to be spread out in an opened arm shrug before they return back to their previous spot.

Clint took a moment to let his words sink in and then another to word his response. "I see now... but what is the point in gaining her trust when it's falsely placed?" Clint's curiosity, surprisingly doesn't irritate him, it has the opposite effect entirely. 

"It doesn't matter if it's falsely placed. As long as she truly believes that these Avengers aren't what they seem and choose to aid us, then I care not." Indeed it doesn't matter about morals and such. He didnt care when he took control of those men or killed the others, he certainly won't start caring now. In truth, albeit a little bit petty, after being told about his humiliation and defeat at the hands of his brother and their silly little group of wannabe heroes, he wants to inflict that prediction back onto herself, and thus his plan was born of malice.

Clint simply nods in agreement, understanding that when his mind is made there is no changing it without enough reason other than to save some time and effort. 

Once again his attention is cast downwards to the (h/c) haired woman. "In truth, I want to see the hope drain from her eyes upon seeing that the heroes she put so much faith into have hurt her beyond recognition." His smile ever present on his features is far too happy to match his tone. "She knows what I need to know, the only way she will tell them to me is to have her complete and utter trust. Have her confide in me. This is not something I can will upon someone."

A silence falls over the room. With Loki's attention still on the woman, his mind playing over his plans. After a moment, he turns on his heel and prepares to leave the holding room. "Besides, there is fun to be had with those less fortunate than you."

The minutes turn to hours before (y/n) begins to stir. First she feels the chill on her skin and the hard surface below her. Second she can feel a pounding in her head, face and torso. Her eyes open slowly, the darkness forces her to strain slightly as she begins to push herself upwards and into a sitting position. The throbbing in her head keeps her fear level, for now at least. 

A minute passes as she sits in the darkness allowing her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. As she adjusts to her new environment she takes in, what she can see, of the room before her. Nothing notable, other than a heavy looking door with little to no light creeping underneath, and a few pipelines along the wall is within sight.

Carefully, she pushes herself to stand. Although a little wobbly, either from the exhaustion, hunger or the general being smacked around like a punching bag... Probably all three.

(Y/n)'s first instinct is to check the door to check if it's open, but as she prepares to take the first step her legs buckle beneath her. She hisses in pain as her knees smack against the floor.

Back where she started, already feeling beyond fed up, her eyes well up with tears. A combination of fear, sorrow, pain and mental anguish begin to cascade down her cheeks. A lump forms in her throat as she tries to regain control of her emotions but the sensation is suffocating. (Y/n) tries to swallow it down, along with her feelings but they remain as they are, much to her dismay. Maybe a good cry is needed. She is allowed one after everything that's happened. Right? Cry now, run after.

On all fours, (y/n) crawls over to the farthest wall from the door. The shadows become a momentary blanket to hide her shame. Her knees tuck up to her chest, her arms encase her form as a means of comfort as she allows her tears to freely fall. Quickly her muffled sobs turn to pained wails. (Y/n)'s grip on herself gets tighter, as if the action would shield prying ears from her sorrows. Soon enough her nails become uncomfortable on her skin but she cannot find it in herself to let up. 

Footfall echoes from beyond the doorway. Only one by the sounds of it, but (Y/n) is too absorbed by her own mental anguish to register the sound. The sounds grow louder as they get ever closer. 

A click sounds from the door. The noise causes her to tense up but she does not lift her head. The door gives way with a sharp screech and in comes the form.

All sounds cease to exist as the newcomer enters the room. (Y/n), herself is now hyper aware of her surroundings and the eyes that are piercing her sixth sense have her feeling on edge once again.

Her nerves are so tautly wound that she feels another headache forming. Against her better judgement, she raises her gaze. And she wishes she hadn't.

More alarm bells sound within her head, the sound is becoming a daily nuisance it would seem.

Her eyes, already red and puffy are now frightful - and rightfully so. Her lips are pulled to a grimace and her body goes ridged. Before her stands one of the few people she could trust. Who she should be able to trust. His expression is full of malice and hatred - directed directly at her feeble form.

Panic stricken, (y/n)'s eyes are glued to the man before her. Confusion, hurt and betrayal, begins to paint itself over her features.

Tony steps towards her with a light curl on his lip. "What do you think of the new accommodation? A last minute decision but I think you'll be more comfortable here. Don't you think, kid?" His voice is far jovial than his features would have indicated.

(Y/n)'s thoughts are a whirlwind of - Well, thoughts. Words aren't forming for her to make a response. He takes her silence as a means so continue. "You didn't really think we would allow you to just walk scotfree when you're a potential threat to us, did you?" A threat?

Tony kneels in front of (y/n), staring directly into her eyes. Watching the words be swallowed up and digested. "You may have warned us of the attack but that doesn't mean you won't side with someone else. It doesn't mean you wont lie." (Y/n)'s brow furrows at his words. A miniscule amount of anger rises up, but is still outweighed by her anxiety. She opens her mouth to argue back, that she would never, but no sound comes out.

She finds herself staring. Peering back into his blue eyes, searching for something to calm this uneasy feeling that's washed over her.

"I wish I could say I'm sorry, kid, but that would be a lie. We have to do what's best for everyone here. Even if it seems harsh." Best for everyone? Best how?

Tony could see her eyes grow hollow as he regarded her. Watching whatever fight and resolve she had fade to nothingness.

Time seemed to slow to a halt then and there.

With his back hand raised, he strikes her. His blow making contact with her cheek, knocking her to the side. (Y/n) whimpers as she holds her hand to her face. With eyes as wide as saucers and her form beginning to tremble.

"Let's start from the beginning." He pushes to his feet, his features hardened. Brows arched and his lips are pull into a line. His voice is devoid of any emotion it held prior. "You're going to tell me every little detail and if I think that you're not being truthful or if I think that you are withholding information from us there will be consequences. Got it?"

(Y/n) squeezes her eyes shut, a stray tear cascades down her cheek. Where did everything go wrong? Hoping and praying that if she wills it hard enough that this situation will melt away and she will find herself back home and in bed. The whole damn week being no more than a nightmare that she can confide in her mother for comfor and then laugh off after a week.

Tony huffs in silent frustration at her lack of response. She's pushed his hand. He reaches down to where she lays and grabs a fist full of her tangled locks. She gasps and her eyes snap open. He drags her by the hair to her feet. Her hands clawing at his to let go but the action doesn't faze him. "Take this as a warning." His fist connects with her cheek once again. She splutters in pain and shock, but she isn't given time to recover before another blow is delivered, and another, and another. (Y/n) having already lost count of the number of punches her cheeks have softened, finds black spots beginning to invade her vision.

His punches stop and his grip on her hair cease. She drops to her knees once again with ragged breath, puffy and bruised cheeks. (Y/n) begins to sob once again, without the energy to even try to hold it in she allows herself to feel the weight of her pain.

"When I ask a question, you answer. Is that understood?" (Y/n) is quick to respond this time, nodding her head vigorously in the hopes of some relief. "Good. So about the beginning." Tony stares at her amid a complete and utter mental breakdown with absolute disgust and a sneer evident on his lips.

(Y/n) squeezes her eyes shut in a pitiful attempt to regain some control of her emotions. The first few minutes she's stuttering and stammering, with a few choked sobs and sniffles breaking through and into her words. Then the minutes pass by and she's barely even whimpering. A total numbness washes over her as she tries to disassociate from herself and this situation.

Half an hour passes by in the blink of an eye and Tony cuts her off. Too much has been said with too many details. He has to at least remember most of it if he wants to have the upper hand.

"Thanks for that, kid." A smile stretches over his face. It's sickening to see his features soften as though he hasn't threatened and then beaten her not too long before hand. "We will be back tomorrow to ask other questions. Until then get some rest." We?

He stands straight, brushes the creases from his clothes and heads towards the door. He presses his knuckles to the metal and knocks in a pattern. Barely a minute passes before the door is pushed open, allowing him to step from the room. He disappears behind the large and creaky door, leaving (y/n) within the comfort of the darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> Basically this story is going to be a slow burn one and it's going to be updated on two platforms - in case you have found it on quotev as well  
> So this chapter is to set the scene and more shall be following soon :))


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